


People and Things that Went Before

by Dawnwind



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: An out of town police conference gives Lewis and Hathaway time to re-evaluate their relationship. Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge.





	People and Things that Went Before

People and Things that Went Before  
By  
Dawnwind

 _I know I’ll often think about them  
In my life, I love you more._ Lennon and McCartney

He heard the tappity-tap of her heels from all the way down the corridor.

“She’s coming--” James looked over at him with a flash of guilt and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his desk drawer. “Going out for a smoke,” he called over his shoulder, bolting from the office. 

Which had to put him straight in Innocent’s path, but with the excuse of a legitimate break. She’s likely let him pass right by, never discovering that he’d been reading an ancient Latin text of some obscure religious treatise that had probably no bearing whatsoever on the case involving the missing student from Exeter College.

Robbie Lewis allowed himself a brief grin before schooling his features into serious and hopefully appearing far too busy to chat.

“A moment of your time?” Jean Innocent knocked on the door frame with a smile that said it was really more of a command than a question.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” he asked genially. She rarely ventured into his domain for no particular reason. Generally, either she joined them in the situation room to be updated on current investigations or called them into her inner sanctum for a private meeting.

“More like something I can do for you, Robbie,” she said, perching on the edge of his desk. “First, any information on this young woman? What’s her name again?“

“Varalaksmi Patel,” he supplied. “None. She’s not contacted any relatives, either family in London or in Jaipur. We have a call out to her boyfriend, but he’s not got back to us.”

“But you’ve no indication thus far of foul play?” 

He raised his hands, feeling a bit like a magician trying to produce an invisible rabbit. “Not a consideration at this time, ma’am. Suspicious, but she’s over eighteen and apparently drove away in her own car.”

“Good, then you’d have no difficulty transferring this case to another team?” She beamed, obviously having already done the deal in her head.

“Why?”

“The UK branch of the International Police Association is holding a convention in Manchester. They are honouring Inspector Morse with a presentation and a scholarship to encourage young people to join the police force,” she explained, clasping her hands over her swinging knee. “Of course, you’d be the perfect person to be there, accept the plaque and talk about your working relationship.”

“Me?” He managed not to grimace at the thought of getting up in front of such a crowd and reminiscing about his old superior. It was a great tribute to Morse’s career, but Lewis would far prefer to sit in the audience, not be on the podium. 

“Of course, who better?” Innocent stood up with a nod. “Oh, and Hathaway’s included, as well. There are several seminars and classes that count towards required education credits. Both of you will benefit.”

“And no-one else wanted to go?” he guessed.

“You are the person for the job, Robbie,” she reminded with a cheery wave. “I’ll have Angela arrange the tickets and dinner vouchers. Beef or fish?”

“Beef,” he answered automatically before his brain kicked in. “When is this do?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? This upcoming meeting with the mayor and the city council has me in such a muddle.” Innocent tapped her forehead as if she’d lost her train of thought. “I am disappointed to miss hearing your speech about your old friend—“

Robbie rather doubted that was the case, more that she’d counted on overwhelming his common sense by appealing to his devotion to Morse. “You neglected to mention the dates.”

“This weekend.” She nodded, _fait-accompli_. “Friday afternoon, with the dedication supper that evening and then classes all day Saturday. Would you prefer to take the train or drive?”

“There’s no way I can back out of this gracefully, is there?” he muttered, resigned. “A train would take forever.”

“None at all. Driving then,” Innocent said briskly. “Excellent. All the necessary documents will be on your desk within the hour.”

“Aye,” he said weakly as she walked out on those tappity heels. When had he turned into such a pushover? Two days to prepare a speech about Morse. What to say? They’d been together for more than a decade, and he could not deny that his relationship with Morse had shaped Robbie Lewis in more ways that he could name. Not merely a begrudging affection for opera and crossword puzzles.

“What did she want?” Hathaway breezed in, accompanied by whiffs of damp wind, cigarettes, and coffee. 

Robbie stared up at him, almost surprised to see the young lad. He’d been so lost in memories of trailing after Inspector Morse to various and sundry crime scenes that he felt like it was still 1990.

“To take us off the case,” he responded, accepting the cup of steaming coffee James held out. 

“There is no case,” James said, sipping from his own cup before setting it on the edge of the desk, coincidentally exactly where Innocent had been sitting. He had that slightly smug, yet curiously deadpan expression that was pure Hathaway. “That’s what I came back to tell you. I’ve just had a call from one Daniel Laurence—“

“Varalaksmi’s boyfriend.” 

James nodded, taking out his mobile. “And apparently congratulations are in order. Miss Patel is now Mrs Laurence, and they’re honeymooning in Whitby as we speak.” He pulled up two photographs; the first was the couple beaming in a selfie, Varalaksmi holding up her hand adorned with a dainty diamond ring. The second was the marriage license, signed and sealed by the appropriate officials in Whitby.

“Nice of them to tell any one of their friends and family instead of causing alarm,” Robbie groused. “She pregnant?”

“I’d assume but--” James claimed his coffee and sat down at his desk. 

“Never assume.” Robbie shook his head at the way this one had ended. At least there were no dead bodies.

“I’ll write up the report, shall I? There’s a new case then?”

“A lot of faff and bother. It’s a police educational seminar in Manchester.”  
He explained Innocent’s reasons for insisting he go. “Gives us both a working holiday, I suppose.”

James looked over at him with dawning realisation. “The two of us alone, for three days, in a city where no-one else knows us?” 

Well there was an opportunity he hadn’t considered. James had always been one to connect disparate evidence on a moment’s notice. “Yes.” He looked directly into James’ blue eyes, feeling the same intense pull he always did when he allowed himself unfettered emotion. 

“We could, “ James leaned forward, touching Robbie’s sleeve as if brushing off a bit of lint, “sort out this…thing?”

“Aye.” There was a moment when he was absolutely sure that James was going to tip that much farther over and plant one on his mouth. He inhaled, his heart pounding faster than it did when he used the stairs instead of the lift. James eased back, clearly aware they were in a very public space where Innocent could walk in at any time. 

“There is that,” Robbie agreed, somewhat addled at the possibilities suddenly presenting themselves. Even admitting there was a “thing” between them had been a long time coming. Just a few weeks earlier, after a long day slogging through undergrowth to view a body and then supervising SOCO’s search for evidence, not to mention the always painful interview with the victim’s family members, he and James had retired to their favourite pub. They’d collapsed in the back of a wooden panelled booth, leaning against each other out of mutual exhaustion. It was only when James accidentally brushed his hand against Robbie’s leg as he stood to get them a second round that Robbie realised he was hard. The sudden mischievous and somewhat embarrassed grin on James’ face only proved that the interest was reciprocated.

James had practically run to the bar for the beers, but when he returned, his eyes were wide. His tentative “you, too, sir?” had almost been more than Robbie could bear because, honestly, he wasn’t sure what he felt. Except that he’d have to have been blind not to be aware of James’ sexual appeal. 

He’d never really looked at another man before. Val’s sweet affection, her quiet, dark haired beauty had previously been all he cared about. He’d not strayed, not once in their marriage. Even after her death, he really hadn’t entertained the idea of another mate. Oh, Laura Hobson was a good friend but there was no romantic spark. 

Men were mates, buddies. Someone to meet at the pub for a pint or kick around a football with —until James. Love hadn’t been instantaneous, by any means. He’d never actually acknowledged the feelings were more than simply friendship for so long that when he looked into Hathaway’s eyes and saw his own desire mirrored there, he’d nearly come on the spot. Not at all behaviour appropriate to a Detective Inspector.

There’d been no time to try anything more than ponder the mutual want with the frequency of murder cases in the last month. Now suddenly, their desks were clear and there was a mandated order to get out of town for the weekend. What could be better?

Fear. What if, once alone, once in a bed together--Lewis fairly quaked at the idea--they didn’t get on? He’d had dates, long since naturally, which turned out that way. Although—

“Sir,” James said forcefully, breaking into his reverie. “We have to at least give it a go.”

“Right.” He brushed his hands together, glancing up at his sergeant with equal parts apprehension and anticipation. “What are we waiting for?”

~~**~~

The drive from Oxford to Manchester was, according to the sat nav, just over two hours. Which did not take into account road works, stalled vehicles, and the odd lane closure for no discernible reason which snarled traffic on the M40 for several miles.

“Wise course, leaving early,” Robbie commented wryly, gazing at the sea of cars in front of them. There was still no obvious cause for the orange cones cordoning off the right lane, forcing all northbound cars to cluster into the remaining two. “At this rate, we’ll still miss the opening ceremonies, and perhaps the dinner, as well.”

“That your plan, was it?” His fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel, James slid his eyes left to Lewis. “I rather relish hearing your tribute to the Detective Inspector, his zeal to solve the case and whistle Puccini at the same time.”

“You poke fun,” Robbie accused, but it made him smile, nonetheless.

“I thought that was what made you love me,” James retorted, humour in his voice.

But when Robbie looked over at him, James had that inscrutable expression he wore in the middle of a knotty investigation when they weren’t sure of their evidence yet. “Have you done this before? With another man, I mean.”

“Fancy a burger?” James poked a finger towards the nearest exit onto a carriage road with a petrol station and small café. 

“You’re as nervous as I am, admit it.” Robbie put a hand on Hathaway’s thigh, feeling the muscle twitch in response to his touch.

“Ever think of becoming a detective?” James chuckled, driving into the car park beside a place called Beggin’ for Burgers. “I used to blame the church. In wanting to be a priest, I denied myself numerous things—most egregious of which was my own sexuality. I didn’t just ridicule my own best friend for liking other men, I forced myself into a state where I had no…relations whatsoever.”

“Ah,” he almost said ‘lad’ and then realised that might not be the best word for someone who could be his lover, “James. Can’t look back any longer.”

“Exactly right.” James nodded emphatically. “Came round to that in the last year. Going to Mass was an effort to save my soul, when all I really needed was…” He curled his fingers around Robbie’s, “you.”

“Not sure I should have responsibility for your soul,” Robbie replied, stunned at the revelation. This was deeper than he’d expected, and yet the love he felt for James permeated every fibre of his being. He’d only been in love once before, with Val, but after ignoring the signs for far too long, he knew this was the real thing.

“No worries, you won’t have to battle the devil for possession, like that priest on the telly.” James got out of the car and stretched, hands on the small of his back which pushed his groin up against the tight fabric of his jeans.

“I’ve seen that one. With Martin Shaw, yeah?”

“Here we are, alone, not another person in the car park—“

Robbie glanced around. Sure enough, the place was deserted. The café was several hundred yards away from the petrol station, and the car park was behind the building with a wooded area stretching out to the back.

“And we’re playing trivia when we could be snogging.“

“I thought you were hungry.” Robbie smiled lazily, admiring the bulge at James’ groin. How could he keep up with a younger man like that? “You had ulterior motives. Been a long time since I groped anyone in the back of a car.”

“I am hungry, but multi-tasking is my middle name.” James grinned broadly, which transformed that long, rather austere face into a thing of beauty. “Takeaway, a bit of a stroll into yonder woods for a vacant patch of grass.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Robbie said with more confidence than he felt. Still, there was a wonderful freedom to be here, with James, and no case to investigate.

The menu was limited, which made decisions easy. Both chose cheeseburgers and chips. Putting his bagman to good use, Robbie let James carry the sack whilst he paid the bill. He followed James out past the car into the trees.

Early afternoon sun dappled the ground with polka-dots of light filtering through the overhead greenery. It was lovely, like walking into an earlier era when there weren’t any congested motorways, rumbling lorries or ringing mobiles.

Robbie almost stepped onto his friend’s heels when James stopped abruptly, standing quietly on the edge of a glade that would have fit right into a nineteenth century fairy story. Tall, slender trees ringed the small clearing with honeysuckle and dog rose growing in wild clusters. Mushrooms, caused by the rain the night before, had sprung up in circles. Right in the centre of the largest, two hares were doing what rabbits do best. 

“Must be the place,” James said, startling the bunnies. They scampered away with a flashes of fluffy tails.

“Looks like a paradise,” Robbie commented, choosing an old log for a seat. “Isn’t that your cue to quote _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ or some such doggerel?”

“Can’t surprise you, can I?” James chewed a large bite of burger, staring up into canopy of trees. “Mind you, could hardly describe the Bard’s poetry as doggerel, but here’s a bit of prose: _"It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside."_

“Not at all familiar,” Robbie commented, eating his own lunch. This was so right, so good for the both of them. Any hint of nervousness had drained away, even when Hathaway sat on the ground, leaning contently against Robbie’s knee. 

He turned his face up toward Robbie, resting his chin on a convenient thigh with a Cheshire cat grin. “Maud Hart Lovelace, an American author of books for young girls.”

“How in hell did you come to memorise that?” He was once again struck by James’ eclectic brilliance.

“My sister read her books. _Betsy, Tacy and Tib_.” He rolled his eyes. “I’d read anything left lying around, so when she was finished with each novel, I took them.”

Without thinking, Robbie ducked his head, touching his lips to James’. It was barely a kiss—at first. James surged to his knees, pulling Robbie into his arms, kissing him passionately. Where their half finished burgers landed was anyone’s guess, and neither cared. When James stood, pulling him up, Robbie had to tip his head back. Strange to be the smaller person in a clench. Different, but very, very nice.

Every one of James’ kisses sent waves of desire through his core. He’d missed the high of arousal, the increasing joy of embracing a loved one. It had been a long, long time, but his body remembered exactly how to respond. His cock was hard, demanding attention, and he concentrated on getting to know James. 

Robbie tugged at his lover’s Isle of Wight Festival t-shirt, yanking it over James’ head in a flash. His skin was pale, smooth and warm. James inhaled sharply when Robbie kissed him on the collar bone.

“S-sir, erm, Robbie,” James whispered into his hair, unbuttoning Robbie’s green shirt. “I won’t hold out long if you do that…”

“You won’t?” Robbie paused to look into those astonishing blue eyes. “Lad, and I say that because it’s the truth in this case, I haven’t…had occasion to…”

“Been a while, then, has it?” James chuckled, reaching down to unbutton more of Lewis’ clothing. He liberated the thick cock one handed.

Robbie gasped, the gentle touch almost too much. “No-one’s…”

“Since Val?” James asked sympathetically, without moving. “Do you want me to stop?”

 _What a question!_ “God, no, it’s just—a good memory. From the past.” He kissed James again, on the lips. “You’re my present, and my future.”

James knelt in the grass, holding Robbie’s penis reverently in both hands. He ran the pads of his thumbs along each side and circled the base, brushing his fingers along the curved edges of the scrotal sac.

Robbie was sure his knees were going to buckle. He braced himself against the nearest tree, panting as the vibrations tingled through his body. Damn, James was good. He wanted this to last forever, and yet, of course, it could not. The pressure inside increased, and then James put his lips around Robbie’s cock and sucked.

 _Bloody marvellous._ Robbie inhaled sharply, every one of his senses overloaded, and came. From somewhere far off, he could hear the peal of James’ laughter, and had to lower himself down onto the ground to recover from the fantastic orgasm.

“You know,” Robbie said when he could speak again. He touched the smooth line of James’ jaw. “This morning, I had doubts about this—whole thing.”

“No more?” James whispered, kissing him soundly.

“We didn’t even make it to the hotel. That’s a first for me.” He laughed, looking down at his dishevelled clothing. “Val wasn’t one for the back seat, nor the grass, certainly not without a rug.”

“Speaking of which,” James glanced at his watch. “We’d better get a move on or you will miss that memorial dinner.”

“Spoil sport,” Robbie sighed, reaching out for James’ cock. “Did you—“ It was soft, not at all the rigid, pulsing column of a few moments ago. 

“I did.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, casting about for his t-shirt and a handful of napkins from the café. “I almost cancelled out this morning, as well.” He used his water bottle to wet the napkins, passing some to Robbie for a cleanup. “I think you know I can be an over introspective sod at the best of times.”

“Don’t sugar coat it, canny lad.” Robbie looked at him, watching the way the sun beams played in his hair, transforming the pale locks into molten gold.

“This could be construed as many, many things which could negatively impact your career,” James said slowly, zipping himself up. “Fraternisation amongst colleagues is only the most benign.”

“Not just my career,” Robbie reminded gently. “I’m near the end of my run, you’re only starting out. I could easily retire.”

“I’ve said before that if you weren’t at the helm, I don’t want to be first mate to any other captain,” James replied. 

Humour and fear were mixed in his eyes, and it was all Robbie could do not to pull the daft bugger into his arms and cradle him. Wasn’t the right time. They both needed to voice their fears out loud, or this relationship wouldn’t get very far. “You’d make a fine DI.”

“We don’t have to have this discussion today,” James said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but I do eagerly anticipate seeing you kitted out in a penguin suit up on the podium.”

“Bloody hell,” Robbie sighed. 

~~**~~

Squinting in the bright lights, Robbie peered up at the large photograph of his former superior on an easel to his right. Morse would have hated this—the speechifying and enforced evening wear. He would have approved of the scholarship, encouraging young men and women to go into police work. And he’d have liked the open bar. 

Would have loved that. 

Robbie chuckled to himself, taking one last drink of his pinot grigio. He had no problem with it, either. Plus, from his vantage point on the main table, he could look down on Hathaway. The dark formal attire went perfectly with his fair hair. He shone like a candle flame amongst the other coppers stuffed like overfed frogs into dinner jackets and brocade waistcoats. 

He and Hathaway had barely made it to the hotel in time for the ceremony. He’d not paid attention to the hotel reservations beforehand. To save money, the department had reserved a twin room for the two of them. James’ delighted grin when they opened the door had stirred Robbie’s loins, particularly when James dropped onto one of the two beds with an unrepentant flourish. 

All licentious desires were left wanting since they had to scramble to change clothes. Sharing the shower would have saved time, but Robbie was quite aware that access to a naked James was dangerous in his present mood. He’d worried that he’d be unable to keep up with the younger man’s appetites, but clearly that had been unfounded. He wanted to toss James onto the bed and rip off his crisp white dress shirt the moment James was dressed.

Once escorted to his place at the main table, Robbie had been disappointed that he couldn’t sit next to James. Yet, it was probably just as well since he’d have been unable to keep from dipping his hand under the tablecloth to caress those long thighs so tantalisingly near.

There were twelve other tables, with five diners to a table, which meant sixty pair of eyes potentially watching. So, yes, much safer only to look for the present. Until after his speech, that is. 

His speech. He’d struggled during the drive to come up with something noteworthy to say about Morse. Something that showed his good qualities: his dedication to his job, his pursuit of justice, and his dogged determination to solve crimes. Thing was, Robbie kept recalling the other moments: Morse blasting opera in the car on long drives. He’d once received a tongue lashing for falling asleep during one such aria.  
Quiet evenings with Morse, drinking beer at the pub, or in the DI’s house. Or those special times when he’d point out some bit of evidence and Morse would exclaim, “You’ve done it again, Lewis.” Case solved. Now for another beer.

Morse had definitely rubbed off on him. His current music collection included several operas, including Morse’s least favourite, Madame Butterfly. He could generally almost finish the London Times crossword, too. Had Hathaway inherited any of his good—or bad—habits? Hathaway actually shared more traits with the late Morse. His impressive intellect, as well as the fact that they’d both attended colleges at Oxford. 

He dipped into his beef tenderloin just as a smattering of applause rippled through the crowd. He hadn’t been paying enough attention. What was happening?

“Detective Inspector Robert Lewis first worked with DI Morse in—what was it, Lewis?’

“Nineteen eighty seven,” he answered, feeling suddenly quite old. That was nearly thirty years ago. James had still been in primary school. 

“The International Police Association welcomes DI Lewis, especially coming on such short notice to honour a colleague,” the moderator of the evening, one Chief Superintendent Michael Pollard, announced, waving his hand to Lewis. “It is important to remember a man like Endeavour Morse, who exemplified what a Detective Inspector should be.”

Morse would have growled at the use of his detested first name. Hiding a wince behind his napkin, Lewis pretended to wipe his mouth clean and stood with an embarrassed smile. He caught James’ eye, inwardly buoyed by the proud nod Hathaway sent his way. 

_He could do this._

“Thank you, Chief Superintendent Pollard, and all the other senior officers here present,” he said formally, extending a hand to the other men—and one woman—seated at the main table. “Working with Morse was an experience; educational, fascinating, and hard work,” he began.

There was a ripple of laughter and several people in the large room bobbed their heads as if they’d known the man, as well.

This was off to a better start than he’d expected. After glancing at the minimal notes he’d prepared in the car, Robbie let go of any set speech and went with his memories; specific cases—without mentioning any names, of course--and the more personal moments with Morse. Every time he looked towards Hathaway, he was filled with a glow of love.

“So, on behalf of DI Morse—never mention his first name in his presence, mind—I am honoured to accept this scholarship.” He held up the small plaque which would be hung in the lobby of the Oxfordshire police department, no doubt, and sat down before the applause had settled.

His dinner had been cleared away, more’s the pity. He’d only got two bites of the delicious meat. A waitress slid a dish of chocolate ice cream adorned with a waffle fan in front of him. Robbie grinned, sneaking another look at his sergeant. James did like his frozen treats. James had his spoon into the ice cream seconds after the waiter put the dish on the table.

The rest of the evening was a repeat of any other banquet Robbie had ever attended during his career; dull with an overtone of one was expected to be there but most would have gone anywhere else in a heartbeat. At half past eight, a slow but steady stream of attendees headed out the door.

CS Pollard had his back to Robbie, talking with the mayor of Manchester, a severe looking woman with a bosom like the prow of battleship. Stealing his chance to escape, Robbie nipped around the table, walking briskly towards the exit. He didn’t even have to gesture at Hathaway, the canny lad always caught an idea without any difficulties. Robbie saw James stand gracefully, making his farewells to the group he’d been sitting with. By the time Robbie was pushing the button for the lift, James was by his side, as he should be.

“What do you fancy?” Robbie asked lightly. He had ideas, but he wasn’t about to foist them onto James willy-nilly without consent. They were too new at this.

“You,” James whispered, waiting until the lift doors closed to cup his hand on Robbie’s arse. 

He left it there one, possibly two, beats before looking up at the CCTV they both knew was in the corner of the car. They’d used footage from hotel lift cameras often enough in investigations. So much for spontaneity. No need to give any over-ambitious hotel security guard fodder for blackmail.

Which sobered Robbie’s amorous intentions. What if? Was this a bad idea from the get-go? Could he be truly be risking James’ future with this foolhardy behaviour?

“Robert,” James said with a stern edge to his voice as they walked down the corridor to their room on the fifth floor, “don’t go there.”

Which had nothing to do with their destination, and everything to do with his thoughts, but Robbie pretended to be confused, nonetheless. “Kicking me to the kerb already, are you?”

“Hardly.” James rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Robbie slide door keycard into the slot. “We’re both consenting adults, and well versed in the law, I might add. If I had objections, I’d have voiced them long since.” Walking into the room, he thrust a finger in his bow tie, pulling the notched ends apart. The length of silk dangled from his collar as he fumbled with the top shirt button. 

“My turn, then, is it?” Pushing the door shut, Robbie gave him a look that stopped his tongue and clasped the ends of the silk tie to pull James in very close.

James’ hands dropped from his struggle with his buttons and back into place on Robbie’s arse, as Robbie had wanted. When their lips came together, the kiss was more than Robbie could have ever asked for. Even better than those early kisses in the fairy glen.

“I enjoyed…” James began between kisses, reaching up to relieve Robbie of his bow tie, “hearing more about Morse. Like meeting you all over again, the eager sergeant trailing behind his mentor, soaking up all there was to learn.”

“Is this a circle of life thing?” Lewis asked with an derisive snort. He took the brief interlude to remove his dinner jacket and braces. 

“I can sing that song.” James laughed, swooping in to nuzzle his neck. “Yeah, maybe it is. Continuity, one generation teaching the next.” He walked backwards, using Robbie’s drooping braces to tow him towards the bed. 

“He would’ve liked you,” Robbie said fondly, tipping his chin when James kissed him on the collarbone before shoving off his white shirt. And here he’d been fantasising about doing exactly that to Hathaway. He wasn’t keeping up his end. “All the intellectual fol-de-rol.”

“I see what this is.“ James raised a professorial finger. “You’re feeding me song lyrics to prolong the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Robbie echoed, sitting down to remove his shiny shoes. “Prove it. You’ve never sung for me.”

A flush crept up James’ cheeks and he sat down on the bed. “I don’t have my guitar.”

“Acappella, wouldn’t that be, then?”

James tapped his forehead as if searching for the words. Definitely a stalling technique. Robbie couldn’t think of a time when James did not instantly recall a quotation. 

_“You’re romance,”_ he sang, immediately positioning his arms as if strumming a six string. “ _You’re the steppes of Russia…_ ” he hummed a line with a sideways glance at Lewis, _“I’m a broken doll, a fol-de-rol, a blop…”_

“Know this bit.” Robbie said fondly, putting an arm around James’ shoulder. “ _Baby, I’m the bottom, you’re the top_. Cole Porter.”

“A classic,” James said, leaning against him, “just like you.”

“Here I was going to thank you for the concert,” Robbie said, pretending offense. “And you mention me age.”

“Age brings wisdom,” James said, taking his hand. “Experience, knowledge.” He kissed the broad palm and wrist.

Robbie shivered at the contact. He hadn’t been kissed—or kissed anyone else-- in so long, it felt fresh, renewing. “Thank you for this, then. For giving me, us, the push to discover if this…” What did he call it? Connection? Bond? He wriggled his hand between them, “Would work. For teaching an old dog new tricks.”

“What tricks have you got?” James asked lazily with a grin, running his fingers through Robbie’s hair.

“Not many,” Robbie confessed. “But I can extrapolate…” He unbuttoned James’ flies slowly. 

James raised up enough to get the trousers down to his ankles, where they puddled, trapped by his shoes. 

Robbie cupped his hand around James’ balls. Just the touch of his soft, warm sac made Robbie’s cock swell. He felt like he was striking out in the dark, moving on instinct. “Know what I like…”

James inhaled sharply, spreading his legs to give Lewis more space. “I like…” 

When Robbie slid his palm along the ridge, James gasped, throwing his head back. Brilliant. He’d never seen James so at a loss for words. No matter that he was a novice at this, stimulation and arousal were hard wired. Didn’t take a college degree from Oxford to discover what worked. 

James was hard as a rock, his penis standing up against his belly like a soldier.  
Eyes a bit wild, James backed up to the top of the bed, lying on his right side.  
“Robbie, come closer. Together.” 

Keeping one hand on his prize was difficult to do with a moving target, but Robbie managed, understanding James’ plan. 

“My shoes off first,” James muttered, toeing his feet out. One shoe rolled off the bed with a loud clunk as he dexterously wriggled out of his trousers. With that done, James closed both his hands around Robbie’s cock, bringing it up against his own.

Robbie widened his fingers until he and James had their penises aligned. He gasped, just the mere friction of warm, sensitive skin brushing his own cock was like lightning for his libido. James inhaled sharply and he tipped his head back, panting.

“What’s this then?” Robbie asked raggedly, his heart rate speeding up. “You knew…?” He couldn’t quite articulate what he meant with the incredible sensations flooding his body. He’d never imagined that simply rubbing two penises together could cause such a conflagration.

“Frottage,” James supplied, his voice high-pitched, Adam’s apple moving provocatively in the long column of his neck. He tucked his chin, kissing Robbie hard as he climaxed.

That was all it took for Robbie to orgasm. He clenched his fingers around the now slippery flesh, clinging to James as the rest of his senses took flight. Glorious. Twice in one day! 

Waggling his sticky fingers, James opened his eyes, sounding suspiciously like a purring cat. Robbie liked that very much indeed and mentally vowed to make him purr again in the very near future.

“That was worth the trip, and the lecture,” he said with a smile, watching James stretch that long body out on the bed.

“This…thing between us is working out so far, wouldn’t you say?” James asked with a very satisfied smile.

“Right,” Robbie tried to look stern, well aware he wasn’t fooling his sergeant. “Don’t get too full of yourself, lad, we’ll need to keep up strenuous study to—“

“Needn’t say perfect our techniques,” James cut in, getting up to walk across the room wearing only his dress shirt. “I’d say, for beginners, we found a certain rhythm. However, I am interested in further study.”

“Tonight? I’m shagged out,” Robbie said regretfully, leaning into the soft hotel pillows. He might go for a shower, but more sex, however tempting, was beyond him right now. Instead, he indulged himself by watching James’ fine pale arse peeping at him from under the tails of his rumpled shirt. Those lanky, slender legs were a distraction all on their own.

“Tomorrow.” James held up the convention course schedules they’d received at registration, and then neglected completely in favour of dressing quickly for the banquet. “A number of these sessions sound compelling.”

“Such as?” Robbie asked, feeling sleepy and very content. He really didn’t want to think much about sitting in a boring lecture hall in the morning. Admiring James’ nakedness was far more fun.

“When Religious Belief Systems Hinder Evidence Based Investigations,” James read, climbing back into the bed with a grin.

“We could give examples on that one,” Robbie said, plucking the packet from his sergeant. The glossily produced folder bore a picture of Manchester Cathedral on the cover. Inside was the two day schedule of events, as well as a coupon for a free drink in the bar in the lobby, and a discount on fish and chips at the takeaway across the street. He flipped over the lecture schedule to find the Saturday itinerary. “Priests can be quite obstructionist.” 

James gave him the gimlet eye, clearly aware he was being ribbed, and pointed to a panel at 1100. “Maintaining Procedural Integrity: Keeping Chain of Evidence Intact. Sounds promising.”

“Aye.” Robbie nodded, more interested. “As well as Guiding First Year Detective Sergeants in Investigative Technique.”

“Oh, you like that one?” James chuckled. 

“Right up my alley, that is,” Robbie smirked. “Need t’take those young lads in hand. Give ‘em…guidance.” He snuck his right hand under the bedcovers toward James’ unprotected cock.

James was far too quick. He raised his knee in defence, waggling his finger. “I want a fresh start in the morning for the complimentary English brekker. Bacon, sausages, black pudding…”

“You’re enjoying this a wee bit too much,” Robbie accused, scooting down so his head was on the pillow. “When have you ever ate black pudding?”

“I have depths you haven’t plumbed, Robbie Lewis,” James said loftily.

“That’s all about to change, canny lad,” Robbie said, smiling when James placed his hand on Robbie’s head, caressing his hair.

“Penetrating the Mysteries of Forensic Pathology,” James read, chuckling. “I really have to try a bit of penetration, don’t you think?”

Just the thing to give him good dreams, Robbie thought happily. Should he thank Morse posthumously for unknowingly being the catalyst in this twist of his and Hathaway’s relationship or should that fall squarely in Innocent’s lap? 

~~**~~

Robbie walked into the Chief Superintendent’s office on Monday morning, holding up the souvenir from the convention. “The plaque for your wall, ma’am.” 

Innocent stood, accepting the tribute with a broad smile. “Brilliant. ‘In memory of an exemplary member of the Oxfordshire Police Department, DI Endeavour Morse’,” she read. “I know just where to hang it. How was the banquet?”

“Gave me a new appreciation working with ol’Morse,” he said genially, thinking back to the leisurely Sunday morning when he and James ordered room service and indulged in their new favourite erotic studies. 

“Did you attend any of the lectures?” she asked, holding the plaque against her chest.

“Sir!” James’ voice came from down the corridor. He strode up on those long legs, bearing two cups of coffee from the local coffee shop down the road.

Robbie was unsurprised to see that James was wearing a completely different outfit than he’d had on when they parted company two hours earlier. He accepted the cup with a nod, breathing in the mingled scents of coffee and cigarette smoke that meant Hathaway to him.

“Good morning, James,” Innocent said. “I heard the convention was a success?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he bobbed his head, tucking his chin almost into his purple tie.  
His expression was deadpan, but his blue eyes twinkled with inner merriment. “I gained a whole new appreciation for the—“ he paused to sip the coffee, “body of police as a whole. How noble and yet keenly sensitive detectives are when investigating a …”

 _Too clever by half._ Robbie snorted, sure he’d blush or some such fash if Hathaway kept talking. Of course, that clever tongue had given Robbie quite a wake up this morning. Innocent had that slightly overwhelmed, vaguely annoyed expression she often got when James went off on a tangent.

“The lecture on forensic pathology was particularly good,” Lewis said briskly to cut Hathaway off.

“More to the point,” James said, holding up a finger. “Exactly why I was hunting you down. Body found floating in the river. Dr Hobson’s already on her way.”

“Best get down there then.” Innocent nodded, clearly pleased to see the back of them. “Keep me apprised.”

“On your bike, lad.” Robbie grinned, walking towards the exit with his sergeant by his side. 

“No rest for the wicked,” Hathaway said straight-faced, and then ruined it with a cocky grin as they stepped outside.

The End


End file.
